Chapter 19: In the City

The first night in the city, Alex had all but crashed in his rooms and passed out for a good fifteen hours. Apparently, gate-lag was a thing, because he wasn't sure when he had last slept that long. Months, probably. There was something soothing about the feel of Ancient technology at the back of his mind though, something that reassured him he was actually safe in his quarters.

It probably helped that he had been put into the same corridor as the rest of Sheppard's team and some of the scientists, who he would no doubt get to know at least in passing, fairly quickly. They weren't threats.

After those fifteen hours though, Simmons had rather insistently roused him, informing him that it was almost mid-morning and he really ought to eat something. The command had come with a tray from the mess and a thin tablet, so Alex took the hint that he really wasn't expected out of his quarters.

All for the better, since he had quite a bit of catch-up to make sure his story was consistent with the one being told. The tablet had had all the ins and outs of what different entities on the city knew about his background. Sheppard – or perhaps Lorne, since it seemed like he was the one keeping all the pieces together – had detailed and outlined who he could trust implicitly, though he recognized few of the names, and to what extent the cover story was going to impact his daily movements.

It had already been made clear to him that he would have an escort for an indefinite period of time. How that would impact the career trajectory of the poor officer saddled with him… he figured that was Sheppard's problem.

The shouty guy – Rodney something – had showed up with the evening meal and given him a long stirring rant on not touching anything outside of his room. He had also showed Alex the most useful features – locking the door, tuning the lights on and off, coaxing the shower to give him hot water, and where the drawers were hidden in the walls.

Brusque, but definitely efficient.

And being able to control the lights with his mind certainly hadn't grown old yet.

After another nearly twenty-seven hours – apparently, the rotation of the planet around its… sun? suns? – Alex knew he had to go out and brave the masses.

There were only several hundred people in the city.

It wouldn't be that bad.

And he needed to see daylight. Though the quarters were eerily good at mimicking the natural change in ambient light, there was no fresh air. No breeze. Some rooms apparently had balconies – his notably did not.

Alex shrugged on the official looking jacket that had appeared in the closet-like alcoves, then stepped in front of the door.

It was like playing another role. And once again, his life depended on it. But unlike before, it seemed he had a team of people willing to keep his secret safe.

Open.

As expected, Lieutenant Simmons was there, waiting for him. He was built like many of the other military-types, but had slightly different insignia on his uniform. Alex wasn't entirely sure what it meant, except that for some reason Sheppard had thought him particularly perfect for the position of escort.

Who was he kidding though? Alex knew he had earned a babysitter.

He was emancipated, for goodness' sake.

"Can we… go to the mess?" Alex wasn't entirely clear how much autonomy he had in the city at this point – if Rodney had his way, probably none, because based on his rant he was convinced Alex would touch the wrong things and send the city to the bottom of the ocean.

Which he definitely would not.

Purposefully, at least…

"We'll take the transporter." Simmons nodded his head down the hall, toward the decorative stained-glass doors.

The doors slid open as they approached, sparking off a new hum at the back of Alex's mind. A sense of motion and recognition, nothing more. He carefully kept his hands to himself as they stepped inside, Rodney's warnings ringing all too loudly in his ears.

Simmons waved a hand at the small interface that appeared, displaying a multilevel map with a snowflake design – what could only be the city. "It's pretty easy to get lost in these if you can't read the symbols, but you'll probably pick it up quickly." He tapped the largest of the maps, bringing it to full size, with blocky strings of symbols scattered seemingly haphazardly across the spokes. "Pretty much only the scientists can read Ancient, but Dr. Z patched in a number-letter system. First symbol is the floor number and second is the section letter. Mess is on floor zero, section F."

The doors slid shut as soon Simmons pressed the button, before sliding open once again into a much busier hall.

Simmons clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll get it soon enough. Not that you'll be wandering on your own any time soon, though."

Alex rolled his eyes at that, before following Simmons out into the corridor – there were others already waiting to go back in. The smell of food drifted toward them, no doubt making it impossible to miss the mess if he got close enough with a transporter.

The mess was larger than he had expected, but it was clearly a repurposed room – the folding tables and chairs were clearly Earth issue. The large windows opened onto a balcony where some other early-risers were already out eating.

Simmons herded him toward the line – buffet style – greeting others as they passed. "Not your usual mess fare, but most of it's pretty good," he said, nodding toward the purple soup concoction that someone was happily pouring into a bowl. "It becomes a little more, Earth-normal right after a supply run, but until then, there's a lot of supplementation from our trade partners."

Alex nodded, then followed Simmons' lead and took a little bit of everything. A week ago, he would've never thought he would be eating alien food.

Alien anything, really.

The safest options looked like standard earth fare, just… the wrong color. Eggs that were green, instead of yellow. Hashbrowns that were a lurid purple – and really, purple potatoes existed on earth too… they just didn't usually make hashbrowns out of it. Slightly pinkish gray looking milk with standard cornflakes.

He had adapted to the American-style breakfast over the past year, but he had a feeling his palate was once again going to become a lot more varied, very quickly.

Simmons led the way over to an empty table and though Alex was sure the man would rather be eating with his buddies, he was glad for the continued buffer from everyone around him.

It was all a little overwhelming.

Improved though it was, crowded spaces were still not his cup of tea.

Speaking of tea…

"Don't suppose they've got tea around here?"

Simmons grinned. "Tea, coffee, lurie. Pick your poison."

"Lurie?"

He leaned in conspiratorially. "Long ago, when the expedition was first sent out here, it was considered a one-way trip. And although some scientists brought their own personal weight in coffee, it ran out pretty quickly. Then, one of the botanists found a plant on the mainland – lurie – and realized it contained some of the same components, whatever, as coffee." He waved his hand, as if that part were unimportant. "There's only a handful that drink it when coffee is available, but when the supplies start running low, there's enough to keep the scientists running. Rumor has it, you can tell when Dr. McKay has switched to lurie, because he gets less snippy with everyone."

Alex poked an experimental prod at the green eggs. Green eggs and ham. The texture was a little off, but flavor wasn't too bad. Definitely eggy. And the potatoes were potatoes. If not a little crunchier… Overall, not awful.

"So?"

Alex let a hint of a smile escape. "Not bad." He cautiously picked up the glass of milk. Milk just wasn't supposed to be that color… He took a sip—

"So, is it true that you're the colonel's love child?"

—and promptly snorted it back out onto the table. "What the fuck?"

Amusement was dancing in Simmons' eyes as he mopped up the mess Alex had made. "Hey, had to ask." He shoveled a few bites of mystery meat into his mouth, regarding Alex carefully. "The marines will run with any rumor, especially when the truth is a lot more boring."

Alex set his jaw. "I was just looking to get a good internship not–" He waved a hand around the room. "–all this." Not that he entirely minded being taken out of the galaxy where multiple people were trying to kill him. There were supposedly fewer here.

Simmons snorted. "Just think about all the future career opportunities."

"Sure, the whole big blanked out section that is completely classified. I'm sure my future employers will love that." In the off chance he survived that long and made it out from underneath the military's purview. Which at this point… wasn't likely.

"Well, so long as you survive McKay, I don't think that's going to matter."

Alex speared another chunk of egg. He really needed to figure out which one McKay was.

"So, what's there to do around here that's fun?"

Simmons was more than ready to share about the power dynamics in the city – oh, sure, he was talking about what there was to do that wasn't all work and no play, but it was obvious that despite appearances, the military and the scientists mingled fairly well. Arguably, better than at the SGC, though Simmons admitted he had only a few months experience there.

It was also obvious that Sheppard was the preferred leader, even though he very obviously did not want to be in charge. Woolsey was tolerated by most though. McKay was spoken with hushed reverence, as if the man – woman? – would appear and smite Simmons for saying the wrong thing. Dr. Beckett was noted for his love of fishing, something that Sheppard apparently indulged him in, on an occasional basis.

The botanists and geologists had their little clubs and were sometimes avid members of the external teams. Others never left the city. The marines tended to break into bunches based on their specialties – but none were too shy to join the various hobby clubs that had popped up over the city.

It was all very… eclectic. Alex tried to imagine any of the soldier types he had met willfully engaging in a painting club – Lorne, apparently – and it was a bit farfetched. But apparently that was just the thing about Atlantis. Most everyone was a little bit different.

"Of course, there's the running and self-defense groups, but that's all a part of training so–" Simmons broke off, his gaze catching on someone approaching from the side.

A woman, thin and lithe, accompanied by the giant of a man – Ronon, Alex's brain supplied – stopped at the edge of the table and gave Alex a brief once-over. "Alex? I am Teyla Emmagan. And you have met Ronon?"

Alex managed a jerky nod. Another alien, if her somewhat non-standard take on the city uniform was anything to go by. The name niggled at the back of his mind. Another of Sheppard's team?

"John felt it best if someone showed you around before your… wandering tendencies took hold." There was a small, private smile, which suggested she may be privy to more information than the others. "There is much to learn and see in this city."

Alex glanced at Simmons, but he had slipped back into his neutral soldier face. Navy. Sailor. Or whatever.

No help from those quarters, it seemed.

"Uh, okay?"

She smiled a brilliant smile at him, before turning on Simmons. "Lieutenant, you may accompany us, but I hear your unit is up for training this morning."

There was a briefly conflicted expression that crossed Simmons' face, before he darted a glance in Ronon's direction.

"I will see to it that Alex makes it down to the labs on time."

Alex just shrugged when Simmons glanced in his direction. He just accepted the fact that he was going to get shoved in multiple directions with random people. And if this Teyla person knew a little bit more… well, perhaps it wouldn't be too bad.

Though he wasn't sure what, exactly, he was supposed to be on time for.

"I'll come find you in the labs," Simmons offered, pushing back from the table.

"Yeah, sure." It wasn't like he was going to argue which babysitter he had.

Ronon clapped Simmons on the shoulder and followed him out of the mess hall.

Teyla slid into the now vacated seat and studied Alex closely. "You are settling in well?"

Suddenly feeling tongue-tied, Alex wasn't quite sure how to answer that question. It wasn't like he had done much more than hide in his quarters for the past day and read up on everything he could get his hands on – which admittedly hadn't been much. "I guess?"

"You will find your place here." There was another privately amused smile, before she tugged his empty tray across the table and stood. "Come, tell me about yourself."

Teyla was a wealth of information, though she said very little at all. Her tour through the city was at a much more sedate pace than he expected, traversing up and down the various wings – sectors – of the city. Though they didn't go into every room, she casually pointed out every armory and weapons cache in each sector, as well as the more mundane washrooms and public baths.

They had skirted around the main gate area – Teyla stating that Mr. Woolsey was best to be avoided on a mid-day week. Which had brought up the question as to what day of the week it actually was and whether they followed anything approximated a weekly calendar. A week cycle that actually took eight Earth-days was definitely going to be something to get used to…

The off-limits sectors – those under repair or yet to be explored fully – were noted and avoided.

There was no way Alex had a chance of keeping it all straight in his head, especially since the transporters made it so that they could crisscross the city in seconds. But it was at least a start.

Then, they had traveled to the science labs. The majority were all in the same sector, though there were apparently a few specialized labs spread out across the city. Mainly ones that were originals. And Alex hated to think how old those originals would be. Thousands of years, at the least.

Botany and biology were shoved into one corner, while linguistics, anthropology, and archeology were crammed into another few labs – and then there were the rest of the science labs.

It was clear that whoever was in charge cared quite a bit more about technology and engineering than the so-called soft sciences.

And that, Alex hoped, was their final destination. Because even though it had only been two hours of walking, Alex could almost feel his back cramping up from the sedate pace they had been proceeding at. Who knew slow walking was worse than fast walking?

Teyla carefully skirted around Rodney, who was in the process of berating someone for their careless work, and Alex sidestepped as well to avoid the flailing arms.

Clearly not someone to get in between when he was on a streak.

Teyla gently pulled him into an adjoining room, this time with only one occupant. "And this is Dr. Zelenka."

A fuzzy headed man, pushed his glasses further up his nose, turning to focus on them both. He looked more than a little harried.

"Dr. Zelenka, this is Atlantis' newest resident, Alex." There was a strange inflection to his name, but Alex wasn't about to ask. "You cleared some time for Alex's evaluation?"

"Whoa," Alex took a step back. "Evaluation?" He wasn't prepared for anything.

"All the better," Dr. Zelenka said with a thick accent. "Will show true ability." He turned to the desk and started shuffling through the stacks of books and papers. "John shared transcripts, but is necessary to fully evaluate your skills."

"Uhh…"

"Will be fine," He tapped the chair on the other side of the desk, motioning for Alex to sit down. "If you don't understand a question, just skip."

Alex hesitantly sat down in the chair and glanced at the stack of papers in front of him. Full of equations, no doubt.

"We will go old school – no chance of accusation of cheating." Dr. Zelenka grinned at him, then placed a pencil in front of him. "Calculator is… not available." He shrugged. "Sorry."

Alex blew out a long breath, accepting his fate. He just hoped Dr. Zelenka was one of the ones let in on the secret, because if he wasn't… his cover was going to get blown very quickly.

"The Lieutenant will be down later," Teyla said, before placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You will do fine."

Her gentle confidence in his abilities only made him question himself even more. Was this where it was all going to fall apart?

"Take as much time as you need," Dr. Zelenka said, before turning back to whatever he had been working on, on his tablet.

And so, with the dulcet tones of Rodney dressing someone down in the background, Alex made his first attempt at actually doing something with his life on Atlantis.

He felt completely brain dead.

Like all the knowledge he had ever had, had drained right out of him and onto the paper in Dr. Zelenka's lab.

There were definitely things he had skipped. More than a few. Several things because he was pretty sure physics didn't work like that. Or at least, the physics he had learned…

Some of the maths weren't too bad, and there were a few seemingly easy questions sprinkled throughout. Logic puzzles that seemed like they had little to do with physics, maths, or engineering in general, but had complexities he had been more than willing to work through. Just for a break from the harder questions.

Alex rested his head in his hands, contemplating whether he actually had the energy left to eat the food he had bothered to grab. Simmons had reappeared, just in time for Dr. Zelenka to all but shoo him out of the lab, and had escorted him back up to the mess.

Somewhere in there, there should've been lunch. But here it was, and it was evening once again.

Alex wasn't entirely sure he knew where the time had gone.

He really needed a watch at the very least…

"Heard you got put through the paces today." Sheppard appeared beside the table, carrying his own tray of food. Simmons all but snapped to attention in his seat, but Sheppard waved him off. "And all while Rodney was berating poor Dr. Carlson."

Alex almost smiled at that. He wasn't entirely sure what Carlson had done to deserve being dressed down for a good two hours, but there had been yells about base security and bio-hazards, Carlson, and going to kill us all, which made it seem like it was a pretty heavy transgression.

"Simmons, make sure he gets three meals a day, or General O'Neill is going to think we're starving him. He might be with the scientists, but don't let him pick up all their bad habits."

"Yes, sir."

Rolling his eyes took too much effort, so Alex settled for glaring at Sheppard. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. It just didn't always mean eating when he should…

"Teyla will come find you tomorrow morning again. You're a good candidate for language training, so she'll probably take you by the linguists. The sooner you can read Ancient, the better things around here will be."

Probably a true statement, but he wasn't entirely sure about learning a whole new language system. It wasn't like there was an immersion element to it – seemingly no one spoke the language. But certainly, navigating the city would be a lot easier if he could just read the signs.

Of course, this was only day one.

Alex let his shoulders slump slightly. Day one in the real-world Atlantis had been a long one. But if he spent all his days sitting around in labs… it wasn't going to be a pretty sight.

"Don't let them run you too ragged," Sheppard said, breaking into his thoughts. He was watching Alex with a careful gaze. "Take breaks, get some fresh air. Exercise. Whatever works for you." He tapped the edge of the table briefly with his tray, like a salute, then turned to walk away. "Oh, and I'll make sure Rodney gets the rest of your stuff uploaded to a tablet."

Alex ducked his head in response, then started poking at the food again. There were going to be a lot of adjustments.

Drop.

Block.

Swipe.

Alex let out a sharp breath, dodging to hands flying in his direction. A particularly solid hit to his thigh, but he didn't give in.

Not now.

Not when he had something to prove.

Duck.

Swing.

Pull.

He tried not to flinch at the love tap on his ribs, spinning out of his wannabe captor's grip.

Back.

Back.

Forward.

He pulled his punch at the last minute, not wanting to break the private's nose.

No knockout.

It was a friendly spar – no reason for bloody endings.

The pulled punch wasn't noted, because yet another swinging blow came toward his ribs. He danced back, keeping his feet light, watching. Waiting.

The private took a step forward, feinting to the left, then darting back for a tackle that should've taken him down and out.

But it didn't, because he saw the feint.

Alex twisted out of the way and let the private's own momentum carry him toward the mats. He pulled up and back, pinning the other man to the floor, exhaling heavily.

Alex let a grin spread across his face, before he released the private and gave him a hand up from the floor. Someone tossed a towel in his direction and Alex wiped the sweat off his face.

This was exhilarating.

And not threatening in the slightest.

He had always worried that the worst of his habits would come back when he sparred. But there were no breakthroughs, no automatic pushes to go for the kill. Just complete confidence that this was practice.

"Up for another?"

Alex shook his head, ruefully. "I've still got to get up in the morning and deal with Dr. Z." Which after spending an hour of off and on sparring – and only winning a handful of times – was going to be a bit of torture. His muscles weren't used to this type of exercise. Not for a long time.

He took a bench and watched the next pair set up. There were about half a dozen marines crammed into the room and Lieutenant Simmons – Greg, he had insisted – had mentioned that Ronon had run most of them through their paces earlier that morning. Which meant that generally anyone who showed up to the evening sparring was looking for some genuine practice.

Not to say that if someone was a little bloodthirsty they couldn't find their place in the city, but Greg claimed that those were usually broken up fairly quickly.

Though there were certain other groups that wouldn't be quite so… welcoming to Alex's presence, this particular group had warmed rather quickly to Alex's presence. Especially when it became clear that he wasn't just another weakling scientist. It had taken a bit of work to convince them he actually wanted to spar though.

"You did pretty good out there," Greg said, slouching down on the bench next to him. He was technically still on duty, so hadn't actually been able to participate. "Where'd you learn to fight?"

Alex shrugged carelessly, leaning into the guileless teenager façade he had once perfected. There were a lot of answers to that question. Many wouldn't be appropriate. "My… uncle believed that knowing how to defend yourself physically was just as important as verbally. Started karate when I was a little kid, and…" He shrugged, as if that explained everything. No doubt, someone with a discerning eye could see that it wasn't just karate. There was a bit of SAS training in there. Some from SCORPIA. Some really rusty Aikido. Street fighting, too.

"Huh," Greg studied him for a long moment, before turning his gaze back to the set of marines sparring. "I think there's a couple of people working on their black belts, if you'd be interested in…"

Alex shook his head. He knew he had too many ingrained bad habits to go back to that rigid structure. "I think this'll be good for now." After all, the only reason he was ever going to need to use his skills was if someone infiltrated the base. And by that point, there would probably be enough fucked up shit going on, that no one was really going to notice if he went a little berserk.

"Suit yourself," Greg pushed up from the bench, then held out a hand in Alex's direction. "Back to quarters? Martins will be coming on duty and it's probably best not to make him hunt us down."

Ah, Martins.

Unfortunately, one of those that rather resented Alex's presence in the city. Thankfully, he had night shift and never really interacted with Alex beyond a check-in at shift change.

Maybe he was just grumpy because he had perpetual night shift…

Alex took Greg's hand and pulled himself up. A spot in his lower back twinged and he stretched it out, before following Greg out of the room. He was pretty sure it was from exertion and not outright injury. That would be a great way to get Sheppard to come down on him…

A/N: Oops. Let's just say these chapters are going to come as quickly as they come. Which may be very slowly, because life. But they will come. So, here, I offer you a little more about Atlantis and Greg!